Back In Bag End (K)
by Aglet
Summary: Warning: Spoilers and Sadness for an alternate description of Bilbo back at home.


After BOFA fanfic (The Hobbit)

Warning - sadness, end of book spoilers. Suitable for all audiences who can read.

A warm, hazy light floated through the heavy lead windows and into the kitchen. Dust particles gathered for their daily meeting, as had been done for quite a number of weeks now. The roughly hewn table stood as it always did, a comfortable distance from the crackling fire that barely stood on its own compared to what had been thrown from the jaws of a firewyrm just a few months prior. Looking around at the familiar shelves, that year's adventure seemed so foreign. He had been so far away, and come so far back. Was he really home at all, or was he dreaming again?

Bilbo wandered from room to room, his feet shuffling along the cool stones and warm carpets of his hobbit hole. It smelled a bit dusty, yes, and the stench of orc and dragon emanated from a chest that had been lumped into the corner - he made a note to clean that later - mingling with the scent of hobbit sweat and pony. It hadn't bothered Bilbo before, but now he was among the heavy tomes and velvet yards of comfort the smells of being on the road became offensive.

He wandered into his room, bed messy from when he had fallen into it the night before. He stood and stared bleary-eyed at it for a minute before shaking his head and shuffling away. It looked like heaven, but not now. There was food to get. His pantry was empty! He wandered to his usual hiding place for coins, running his hands absently along the wood paneling of the hallway, then wandered back. He almost stumbled over his grocery sack before picking it up.

Hobbiton did not know what to make of the disheveled hobbit. He smelled, his hair was unbrushed and the buttons on his coat were missing! His pants were torn and singed, and he still had a smudge of…something…on his cheek.

"'E was barely co'erent'", remaked the Proudfoots, "I din't know whether to give 'im chicken or cheese!"

"He's gone mad!" sniped Mrs Sackville-baggins, "Perhaps it would have been a good thing, if he had gone missing after leaving like that."

Bilbo didn't seem to notice. His ears didn't pick up the whispers and gasps of his neighbours as he filled his grocery bag. They were quietened significantly as coins were handed out left, right and centre. Every farmer who did business with mister Baggins ended up a few silver pieces richer, and soon Bilbo was happily taking offers of food deliveries for the next month.

"Ham on Wednesdays? Sure thing. Fresh fish every Thursday? I'll see you then!"

An hour or two later, Bilbo shut his large green door behind him and wearily began placing corn and gourds on the shelves where they belonged. He stoked his fire, set the kettle over the top and moved to clean himself. He suddenly became aware that he had not bathed recently.

"Perhaps that's why people were looking at me funny," he muttered to himself as he shuffled to his bath room, grabbing a plush white towel along the way.

Hair damp, food prepared and tea at just the right temperature for sipping, Bilbo settled himself into his favourite armchair in the living room, just in front of the larger fire. His robe felt like feathers and his footstool like a cloud, yet a problem niggled at him all through the meal. He couldn't put a finger on the issue. He had remembered to gather his groceries, to hang his washing out and dump all of his treasures in oil so he could clean the smell off them. He checked his feet - yes, they were clean. He checked his front door - yes, it was locked. Not a window left open or a plate displaced. Bilbo raised a hand to scratch at his golden curly hair. What could it be? He looked up at his chandelier and noted it was a little dusty. Perhaps that was it?

Bilbo washed his plates in silence. He read a book he was meaning to finish in silence. Then he put the book away in silence. Not a single curse word or snoring dwarf to be heard!

"How peculiar," Bilbo remarked brightly with his hands on his hips.

"How peculiar to think I had become accustomed to that sound! Ha!"

Bilbo sat back in his chair, smiling and nodding to himself. Nothing responded.

Even the fire had stopped crackling merrily. The room felt dark, and empty as Bilbo found himself staring at the carpet. Had it always felt like this? He couldn't recall. He had lived in Bag End all his life, and quite a while on his own without any problems. What was the problem this time? Bilbo found himself breathing heavier as tears pricked the corners of his eyes out of nowhere. Why was he crying? Why did his chest feel as if someone had just thrown a blow to his sternum? Bilbo raised his hands to his face. He felt exhausted. A storm of grief rolled forth and Bilbo was reduced to a messy pile of tears and sniffles that passed just as quickly as it had appeared. Bilbo coughed as he went to fetch himself a glass of water. He rinsed it immediately after use, placing it back as he would have done in a host's house.

"Don't be silly, Bilbo!" He told himself off, "pluck up, you're still in good health, aren't you?"

His mind flashed back to Fili and Kili, and Thorin. His sadness, irritation and confusion fell out of the bottom of his stomach. Bilbo stood in an emotionless void for what seemed like hours. Finally, he turned and soundlessly put himself to bed. He would not think of such things now. No, he would think about them later. Later, when he'd had a drink or two, and it wasn't so late. Or, perhaps, he was dreaming after all, and he'd wake up in his sleeping bag like he was accustomed.

Yes, he would roll up in his comfortable bed, and wake up in the company of dwarves. That was much better!


End file.
